


Decurrence

by dvske



Series: Count the Ways [5]
Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, F/M, Implied Death, Nightmare, Past life, night terror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 21:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6095114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvske/pseuds/dvske
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her greatest fear, and he can't help but feel he's done this before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decurrence

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [_The Way You Said 'I Love You'_](http://rhvme.tumblr.com/post/137729229293/) prompts via a lovely soul on tumblr. Prompt# 16, Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble.

It's the same pattern, every few nights, so sudden that it takes him by surprise. Slender hands at his back, his shoulders, clutching him so tightly he stirs. The shifting of the sheets as he rolls over, shaken out of sleep, and leans into her touch. His name, tumbling from her lips again and again with a wavering tone. Whispered, near frantic. Grogginess leaks into his own voice as he sooths, or attempts, and--

"Red."

_"Oh..."_

She says it, winded, the breath rushing out of her all at once. She says it as his voice wraps around her, as _he_ wraps around her. He pulls her close, lets her fold into him while he trails fingers down her back. And she shudders, trying to hold back the flood.

"You're here..."

Tearful, now. Always a heartbreaking sound, one he forces himself to take in stride. If only because she needs the reassurance. "Yeah."

"You're still...you're still, still..."

_Still here, still here._ A ferverish mantra cutting into the quiet of their room. The words are pained, murmured into his skin until they're nothing but noise striking a chord that sets him on edge.

It's the same dream, he knows. A recurring nightmare he'd once asked about, when she wasn't still caught in its grip. She'd been sparse with details, sharing just those that stuck out the most. A city. A stage. A man. Faceless creatures, all closing in. Red, dripping with white. A pulsing light, stabbing pain at her gut--but it wasn't her in pain, her that fell. It was the people, the buildings, and him. Always him. Whole and solid, then suddenly ripped away. Faded. Fading. Trapped, though where she couldn't say.

There's only so much she can ever say, before the terror of it comes back.

There's only so much he can do, until the terror of it starts to fade.

He's felt it before, so keenly that he prayed for release. So desperately. So consuming, that pain.

So he assures, softly, counting her heartbeat with his. Counting each breath so that he can keep himself grounded as well. He repeats it, knowing full well that when morning comes, she won't mention any of this at all. She'll sooner ignore it altogether, despite his suggestions for counciling, for help of some kind. He speaks, for her sake and his own, because it seems to be enough for now. Enough, he likes to think.

"I'm right here."


End file.
